


Skyrim Drabbles

by Crownonymous



Series: Battle Against Writer's Block [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassination, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crownonymous/pseuds/Crownonymous
Summary: Series of characterizations, scenes, drabbles, fix-its, and headcanons for Skyrim. Only Skyrim. Sad as it is, I haven't touched any of the other Elder Scrolls games





	1. Dovahkiin

List and short description of all the Dragonborns I've had. Chapter will be edited as needed.

 

Dar'vassa- Khajit, Male, Werewolf, Harbinger, Thane of Falkreath, Archer Warrior

Arinya - Altmer, Female, Thane of Hjaalmarch, Dawnguard, Mage Alchemist

Ashariel - Altmer, Female, Mage Student, Companion, Thieves Guild Member, No set fighting style

Erels Jylin - Breton, Male, Thane of the Reach, Brotherhood Assassin, Warrior Archer

Elsinthar Camaen - Altmer, Male, Arch Mage, Thane of Winterhold, Offensive Mage

Lehasi Turavel - Dunmer, Female, Vampire Lord, Thane of The Rift, Stealth Mage

Lyse - Imperial, Female, Thieves' Guild Master, Thane of Whiterun, Stealthy Warrior

Rashanna Gavun - Redguard, Female, Legate, Thane of Haafingar, Dual-wield warrior

Sifgir Iron-Gale - Nord, Male Blades, Stormcloak, Thane of Eastmarch, One-handed Warrior

Tashen-Lei - Argonian, Male, Listener, Thane of The Pale, Assassin Archer

Telvhal - Dunmer, Male, Assassin, Thief, Two-handed warrior


	2. Hearthfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children, homes, stewards, etc

**Dar'vassa**

Adopted - Sissel, Blaise

Lakeview Manor - West Wing Bedrooms, North Wing Trophy Room, East Wing Kitchen, Cellar, Smelter, Garden, Stables

Steward - Faendal, essentially his first friend. Eola was considered, but due to her...diet, she was deemed unsuitable to be left with a child

Other - Sissel, Blaise, Faendal, Rayya, and Derkeethus all live there. Daedric artifacts are stored in the cellar, making it off-limits

* * *

 

**Arinya**

Adopted - None

Windstad Manor - Enchanter's Tower, Alchemy Laboratory, Library, Fish Hatchery, Garden

Steward - Valdimar, he's already her housecarl, might as well be her steward too. Besides, he's also a mage, and can help her better

Other - She married Avrusa, but the marriage is shaky at best. Arinya spends most of her time enchanting, and Avrusa tends to nirnroots

* * *

 

**Ashariel**

No one knows where she lives. Or if she has any children. Some say she has a spouse, but it's not confirmed.

* * *

 

**Erels Jylin**

Adopted - Samuel

Vlindrel Hall - Furnished, storage of various weapons found all over Skyrim. Argis the Bulwark keeps the hoarding semi-tidy at least

Other - He married Muiri and adopted Samuel shortly after retiring from the Dark Brotherhood

* * *

 

**Elsinthar Camaen**

 

Good luck getting him away from the college. He's insanely dedicated to his craft, sleeping in the college, and doing little else but magic

* * *

 

**Lehasi Turavel**

Adopted - Francois Beaufort

Honeyside - Fully furnished with the garden. Kept meticulously clean. Too clean, actually. It's like she's trying to hide something

Other - Revyn Sadri makes sure the home feels like a home. Iona helps too. But Lehasi keeps locked doors no one can pick open

* * *

 

**Lyse**

Adopted - Lucia

Breezehome - Fully furnished with child's bedroom. Simple, doesn't have any of Lyse's gear since she stays in Riften most of the time

Other - Jenassa is Lyse's wife and stays in Breezehome when she's not on a job. She and Lydia dote over Lucia together

* * *

 

**Rashanna Gavun**

Adopted - Runa Fair-Shield, Alesan

Proudspire Manor - Decked out. Filled with enough riches to drown a man. Jordis the Sword Maiden watches over the home

Other - Absolutely spoils the children. Dotes on them too. Married Marcurio who stays in the house and helps her watch the children

* * *

 

**Sifgir Iron-Gale**

Adopted - Sofie, Hroar

Hjerim - Generic house, furnished, but without any embellishments. Very spartan. Calder is in charge of decorations

Other - Married Ysolda who takes care of the children and the house while he's away.

* * *

 

**Tashen-Lei**

Adopted - Aventus (unofficially)

Heljarchen Hall - Greenhouse, Storage Room, Armory

Steward - Gregor, the less people who know where Tashen-Lei lives, the better. Can't have too many loose ends in the Brotherhood

Other - Aventus isn't formally his son, but Tashen-Lei dotes on the child so much that it's pretty much accepted around the Brotherhood


	3. Death Incarnate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If you could save one more person in Death Incarnate, who would it be?
> 
> Death Incarnate upset me. This is a fix-it fic with my assassin argonian, Tashen-Lei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadowmere is written as a mare in this one. And, in this universe, Tashen-Lei isn't the Dragonborn.

"Run faster!" Tashen-Lei hated shouting. Hated being loud, being the centre of attention. He hated using magic, the drain on his small pool of magicka jarring more than anything else. Still, he screamed as Shadowmere galloped through thick forests, and let magic flow through his fingertips to push Shadowmere onward.

The Sanctuary was under attack. Commander Maro ordered everything to be burned to the ground. The Penitus Oculatus was attacking his family.

The Penitus Oculatus was attacking his family.

A melody of outraged cries rang as Solitude's guards pursued him. The thunder of their horses' hooves clapped on the ground. Tashen-Lei couldn't hear it over the blood pounding in his ears. "Faster Shadowmere!"

The mare, though normally prideful, obeyed with a whinny and sprinted faster.

A stray arrow flew and pierced Tashen-Lei in the thigh. He only grunted and wrenched it out, tossing it dismissively onto the ground. More arrows whipped by narrowly missing him, and his black steed. Tashen-Lei wouldn't care if he died after assassinating the fake Emperor. All he cared about was the Sanctuary.

He prayed -begged- to any god that would listen: Keep them safe. Protect the Sanctuary. Keep my family safe.

But his prayers went unanswered. Any obeisance he might have given, thrown back in his face when the first earth-shattering boom! rocked the world. A barrel of explosives detonated just as he neared the sanctuary. It knocked Shadowmere off her feet, and launched Tashen-Lei off her back.

He slammed into a tree, breath and hope leaving him in that one split second. Before he could even stand, an agent of the Penitus Oculatus was upon him, slashing a great battleaxe down upon his head. Tashen-Lei barely managed to draw his dagger to block the impact. The dagger, aptly named Heart Razor, was commissioned from Eorlund Grey-Mane and boasted a powerful enchantment that captured the souls of anything it killed.

Heart Razor shattered.

The pieces flew in different directions. However good of a smith Eorlund was, even he could not make a dagger that could survive a blow from a battleaxe. But the dagger served its purpose, and diverted the blow. Instead of embedding itself in Tashen-Lei's head, the battleaxe merely cleaved into his shoulder.

The Penitus Oculatus pulled the battleaxe back and swung again. Tashen-Lei barely managed to dodge the incoming attack. His shoulder burned. The pain eclipsed only by his rage.

"How dare you," he hissed. "How dare you come into our home, defile our Sanctuary!?"

And the man, brutal and barbaric, grinned. "We should have done this a long time ago."

Tashen-Lei moved before he could think. He is an assassin, not a warrior. Shadows cling to him as he walked. His arrows find the narrow column of throats without him ever being seen. His daggers pierce unsuspecting weary hearts in the dead of night. He was not a warrior. But he drew his sword anyway, and lunged.

The massive battleaxe proved to be heavy. Tashen-Lei darted between strikes, dodged and ducked, parried and blocked. His sword was lighter, honed to a fine edge and burned with energy of the souls Heart Razor collected. He's not much of a warrior, but he _will_ see this man burn.

Commander Maro, the Penitus Oculatus, the fucking Emperor himself. Tashen-Lei would send them all to Sithis.

He screamed in rage again and charged, sweeping his blade up under the man's bulky arms. Tashen-Lei ducked under the battleaxe and sliced the man's arm right off. The enchantment on his blade sizzled flesh where it hit. Without missing a beat, Tashen-Lei swept his tail underneath the man and knocked him off his feet.

Tashen-Lei stabbed him in the stomach when he fell. He should have suffered more, should have been made to beg for his death and repent for all the destruction he's caused. The forest around the Sanctuary burned; smoke curled in the air, ash and dust danced in the wind. A slow death was the best this man deserved.

But Tashen-Lei didn't have time. He quickly pulled his sword out of the Penitus Oculatus agent's chest, reveled in the loud squelch it gave as it tore through organs on its way out. A loud whinny drew him back to the present, away from his murderous thoughts and the pain blossoming in his shoulder that now made itself known.

Shadowmere, by some miracle, survived. She was unscathed, red eyes blazing as she mercilessly stomped other agents of the Penitus Oculatus to death. Her eyes, ethereal and otherworldly, burned with an anger that Tashen-Lei recognized and shared. She nudged her head towards the Black Door, murmuring dark whispers that scratched at Tashen-Lei's mind even with the explosives and the sound of battle surrounding him.

"Thank you," he said to Shadowmere. "I swear, I won't let the Brotherhood die."

He didn't know if Shadowmere understood him or not. But she whinnied again, and crushed the skull of an attacking soldier beneath her hoof.

Tashen-Lei strode towards the door with purpose and anger in each step. Festus was just outside the door. Tashen-Lei pointedly looked away from him. The Black Door swung open for him, and he stepped inside the cold shadows.

Festus, dear Festus, with his wisdom and dry humour, was pinned against a tree. Hundreds of arrows jutting out from him like quills, his robes tattered.

It hurt to think that everyone else could have suffered the same fate.

Fire desecrated the walls of the Sanctuary. It crawled along the ceiling, slithered from the floor, and stung Tashen-Lei with heat. Worse still, the smoke was thicker. A cloud of black haze that forced itself into his lungs and stole his ability to breathe. He was suffocating. Drowning without water.

But Festus spurred him on. Vengeance spurred him on. Bloodlust forced his legs to move and his good arm to hold the sword tighter.

Gabriella's corpse greeted him in the threshhold. Two of the Emperor's guard standing over her with bloody swords. Tashen-Lei killed them both without remorse and without looking back. He ran towards the sound of Arnbjorn's furious snarls before their bodies even hit the ground.

Four soldiers crowded an injured werewolf. Arnbjorn, in his beast form, limped and could only swipe at his attackers with his left arm. Blood matted his fur. Tashen-Lei rushed in and stabbed the soldiers without preamble. It was an anticlimactic battle. Arnbjorn swayed. Or perhaps it was Tashen-Lei, whose vision slowly began to blacken from lack of breathable air.

Before the werewolf collapsed from his injuries, Tashen-Lei caught him. Arnbjorn was unable to speak, though he panted and growled and whined. His ears were pinned back, and he nosed at Tashen-Lei's hands. He was going to die. No amount of healing was going to stitch his wounds. No potion could bring the blood back into his body.

"Are there any survivors?" The scratchiness of Tashen-Lei's own voice surprised him. Though it was probably the work of smoke filtering in through his gills that fucked up his voice. Smoke billowed out his mouth when he spoke.

Even in his state, Arnbjorn managed to look imposing. He asked a question without even looking in Tashen-Lei's direction.

"I'm fine," Tashen-Lei lied. "Survivors?"

Arnbjorn turned his head and pointed with his bloody snout. The werewolf grew cold and still before Tashen-Lei could even thank him. He carefully set him down, and marched deeper into the Sanctuary.

Hope, however small it may be, sparked in him again once he heard the fighting. Fighting meant that there was life. Life meant that the Brotherhood still had a chance. Tashen-Lei's vision faded again, but he continued onward. If he had to lean on the wall to walk straight, then so be it.

Babette and Veezara stood back to back buried knee-deep in a pile of Penitus Oculatus corpses against a circle of even more. Cold radiated off of Babette in waves as she held a pair wicked daggers, baptized in blood. Veezara wielded his sword. Both of them were injured. Babette's dress had a torn sleeve where her the skin on her arm charred and sizzled. Veezara shook with the effort it took to keep himself standing; he bled from a dozen different cuts.

One of them blasted fire and forced Babette out of the way. He pursued her with more fireballs as the others closed in on Veezara. Tashen-Lei intercepted a mace aiming for the other argnonian's back with his own, and knocked it out of the way.

"Brother!" Veezara's voice was not as scratchy, nor did he struggle to breathe. After forcing his eyes to focus, Tashen-Lei could see why. Veezera had damp cloth over his gills, and a mask specially made for him fitted over his face. "You're alive. After the Sanctuary was invaded, we thought you'd been killed."

A better swordsman, Veezara talked as he matched his attackers blow for blow. Tashen-Lei struggled not to die facing off against a single attacker. His opponent, a statue of a woman, wielded her mace like an extension of her body, much more comfortable than Tashen-Lei with his sword.

She, like the wizard, tried to get him to dart away and leave Veezara's back open. One well-aimed strike at an unprotected back would bring them both down. Tashen-Lei knew what she was trying to do. He refused to let her have it. Despite being comparatively worse with a sword, Tashen-Lei met her strike for strike. Each time she swung in an attempt to get him to dodge, he fought against his instincts and blocked the blow. His muscles burned at the effort it took to simply keep her mace at bay, but he endured.

The agent's eyes were manic, burning with a malice she had no right to feel. "You killed Commander Maro's son," she snarled. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Embers from the sword's dying enchantment sparked up between them. Her malice paled to Tashen-Lei's rage, to the Brotherhood's rage. "I'll gut your fucking commander like I gutted his pathetic son." His voice came at a barely audible rasp, a hiss meant for her, and only for her. Tashen-Lei's throat had closed off so much that he couldn't speak louder even if he tried.

Furiously, she swung her mace so hard, Tashen-Lei's arms spasmed with fatigue. His arm protested, the wound from the battleaxe weighing him down even more with pain. She saw how he wavered, the dark wound on his shoulder and smiled viciously.

"I'm gonna wear that tail as a belt," she promised darkly. With one hand, she swung her mace. And, when Tashen-Lei blocked it, she dug her other hand right into his shoulder, hooking her nails beneath the flesh and tugged. Tashen-Lei cried out, but his sword held.

It was only until Veezara looked back at him in alarm, that Tashen-Lei realized that the woman wasn't even bothered with him. When Veezara looked back, the two agents he was facing didn't waste time. One grappled for his sword, and the other knocked him down with a vicious blow from his warhammer. Tashen-Lei heard a bone snap.

Veezara couldn't even grunt in pain as the agent wielding the warhammer came for him again. Another swing, and Veezara was thrown like a ragdoll into the pit where Lis chittered in agitation. Unarmed and injured, Veezara still stood, though he now favoured his left leg as the agent with the warhammer followed him into the pit. Another agent, her hands crackling with electricity, followed close behind.

Tashen-Lei kicked the woman with the mace in the stomach. It was only enough to get her to stagger backwards, but it was enough. "Veezara!" he screamed through his burning lungs. Veezara was the better swordsman. Down in the pit, Veezara can put his back against the wall. Lis can help him fight. Without hesitation, Tashen-Lei threw his sword.

Veezara caught it just as the warhammer came whistling down. He spun out of the way and let Lis leap unto the man's face. Tashen-Lei couldn't catch any more of the battle when the woman he was fighting swung her mace at his head. Tashen-Lei ducked, but he ducked too late. The mace connected, blood and pain running down in rivulets as the grooves of her mace gouged a deep gash just above his brow.

"I'll skin you alive, lizard." The woman spat and swung. Tashen-Lei could only dodge. His bow would be useless here, and he possessed no other blades. She swung at his head again. Tashen-Lei blocked it with his left arm. The impact shattered his bones. She yelled in victory and swung her mace at his side. He felt his ribs give and break, felt the sharp edges of his bones scratch at his insides.

Tashen-Lei fell to the ground. The woman advanced on him slowly, deliberately. She let him hear the gush of fire as Babette fought to avoid it in the darkened hallways of the Sanctuary. He could hear the clash of metal as Veezara fought for his life. He heard the sickening squelch of a heavy blade hitting flesh and listened to Lis as her chittering grew softer and softer.

The agent grabbed Tashen-Lei by the front of his armor and hauled him to his feet. "You are going to die, and your Brotherhood is going to die with you." She chuckled. "Any last words?"

His throat protested. Tashen-Lei could barely see as smoke clouded his eyes but he bared his teeth. His razor-sharp teeth. "Choke," he said and closed the gap between his maw and her throat. It was soft and pliant, the flesh willingly parting as he clamped his jaw around it. Blood filled his mouth and fought with the smoke already choking him. She screamed and her throat bobbed between his teeth. He bit down harder and ripped her throat out.

She fell onto the floor, gurgling as a fountain of red spurt from her bare throat. Tashen-Lei coughed and spat her blood onto the ground as he turned towards the pit.

Veezara was on the defensive. That brutal warhammer swung again and again, and Veezara used the momentum to parry and redirect each blow before it even grazed him. But every time Veezara tried to dart in for an attack, the Penitus Oculatus mage hiding behind her warrior friend shot out crackling tendrils of electricity. Veezara had to dodge again.

It was clear the other argonian was getting tired. His wounds bled and stained against his armor, and the shattered bones from the warhammer slowed him down. All it would take was one lucky hit to knock Veezara down. For good this time.

So Tashen-Lei grabbed the mace from his fallen opponent and swung. It was vastly different from a sword. Slower, less precise. But it gave a satisfying smack as it collided with the mage's skull and sent her crashing into the floor. The man repeated Veezara's mistake; he turned around to see his comrade fall.

The moment he stopped his assault, Veezara surged forward and impaled him through his armor, right in the centre of his chest. He fell to his knees, Veezara pulled his sword back and swung it again. In one clean hit, Veezara decapitated the man and sighed as his head lolled off his shoulders.

"It's good to fight alongside you, again," Veezara smiled. Or, at least, Tashen-Lei thought it was a smile. It was difficult to tell with the mask, harder still when his vision danced with black spots. "Your sword is well-made. You should tell me where you had it crafted once we get out of here."

Tashen-Lei nodded mutely, unable to speak. Veezara sheathed Tashen-Lei's sword and wound his arms around Tashen-Lei's shoulder. It hurt, feeling Veezara's thick scales scratch against his open wound, but he could stand, and he could walk. That's what mattered.

"Babette! We're glad you're alive." Tashen-Lei followed Veezara's gaze to see Babette. More burns wound around her body, and she, though undead, breathed heavily from the pain. One of her daggers was missing. In its place, Babette held the severed head of the mage who burned her.

Tashen-Lei would have praised her for such a feat. Or perhaps try to heal her with what little magicka he had left. But he could not speak, and only listened as she and Veezara assessed the damage.

"We'll get some salves for your burns, Babette."

"Thank you. Vampires don't particularly like fire, you see." Babette glanced at Tashen-Lei and frowned. "You're barely alive."

Tashen-Lei wanted to laugh, but only managed a grunt.

"Anyway, we should find Nazir. I heard him fighting when I was being chased down with fireballs."

"We would have helped you. But-"

"Veezara move!"

Babette quickly flicked her wrist and sent her knife flying forwards. The mage, bloody with shaking hands, formed a ball of electricity and shot it at Veezara just before Babette's dagger hit. Tashen-Lei shoved him out of the way.

The mage fell just as her electricity surged throughout Tashen-Lei's body. It wasn't that powerful; the dying spell of a dying mage. But the arcing energy forced his throat to close, and his gills to shutter. Tashen-Lei dropped to his knees and clawed at his throat, trying to force it to open as every nerve and muscle contracted.

His lungs burned. His gills burned. His throat burned. Tashen-Lei couldn't stand, couldn't see. The entire world went dark with him still conscious, screaming on the inside. It was the only thing he can do.

"Brother!" Both Babette and Veezara cried in alarm. He felt them both beside him, fretting, unsure of what to do.

"What's wrong with him?" Babette's voice was far removed from her detached indifference. She spoke quickly, worriedly.

"He's choking." Veezara. Of course. He's also an argonian. He knows what it's like. The pain. The helplessness.

At least he's alive. At least they were both alive.

The Brotherhood lives.

"There's a potion. It might not help him completely, but it should help him breathe." Babette's footsteps hurried away.

Tashen-Lei felt Veezara pull him up again, though this time, he was nothing but dead weight as Veezara hauled him away. He hated it. He hated not being able to do anything. His brother and sister should be finding a way out, not lugging him across the floor. He might die here. They, at least, should live.

But Veezara, as if he could read Tashen-Lei's thoughts, spoke. "You're family, brother. We're not letting you die."

 _Idiot_ , Tashen-Lei wanted to say. _You should find a way out. Leave me._

He wanted to say it. Tried to say it. Air refused to obey him and constantly remained elusive. He could not speak. But if he did, he doubted he would say anything other than _Thank you._

The Brotherhood should live. He wanted it to live. Wanted his family to survive. But knowing that they didn't want to leave him for dead, that they were willing to stay with him even as their lives and their home burnt to ashes on the ground, gave more comfort that either of them could ever realize.

Tashen-Lei let Veezara drag him after Babette as he slowly lost consciousness.

Then the tip of a bottle was pressed against his mouth, a bitter liquid flowing forth. It tasted like shit. But the liquid soothed his throat and chased the smoke away. It's not enough, and breathing still felt like swallowing glass, but Tashen-Lei managed to suck in a gulp of air. He promptly coughed, hacking violently as he worked to get his lungs functioning once more.

"Feeling better?" Babette asked, blinking her hellish eyes.

Tashen-Lei didn't want to risk speaking. So he didn't. Instead, he fired up a healing spell, and let it course through the worst of Babette's burns. Fire doesn't let vampires regenerate, apparently. Tashen-Lei wasn't the most efficient at casting the spell, but Babette's burns slowly healed, and that's all that matters.

Once Babette's burns were closed, Tashen-Lei directed his spell to Veezara. The argonian had far more wounds, and closing them all with the little magicka Tashen-Lei possessed was impossible. The best he could do was mend Veezara's bones. It took every ounce of magicka he had to finish. And, once he did, Veezara hissed in pain as his bones popped back into place.

Gently, Babette put Tashen-Lei's hand down. "That's enough, Brother. Save your strength." She stood up and dusted the parts of her dress that weren't completely destroyed. "Veezara. Let's go. I heard Nazir screaming over here."

Nodding, Veezara once again helped Tashen-Lei walk as they made their way deeper into the sanctuary.

Nazir was at the top of the stairs in the kitchen. Just as Babette had said, he was violently screaming at his attackers. Two of them, one with a war axe and another with a greatsword, screamed back. Tashen-Lei couldn't fight, and Veezara was too busy making sure he didn't fall. Babette was the only one who could even move properly. Nazir was falling back.

"Potion," Tashen-Lei coughed out, weakly. Only Veezara heard. "Magicka potion."

"Babette! Find a magicka potion!" Veezara relayed.

Babette came quickly, handing one to Veezara who uncorked it and held it up to Tashen-Lei's mouth. The taste was bitter with just a hint of ash. But it did its job. As soon as enough of his magicka recovered, Tashen-Lei conjured a wolf. It snarled and leapt onto the stairs, biting viciously at Nazir's attackers. One of them turned away from Nazir to fight the creature.

In that instant, Nazir kicked one of his attackers off the stairs, and stabbed the other.

Tashen-Lei's wolf vanished like smoke when they fell.

Nazir descended the stairs with calm poise, though his eyes bore an emotion they all felt.

Loss.

"So you still live," he smirked at Tashen-Lei. "I was starting to wonder."

Babette stepped forward. "Someone set us up. We need to find a way out before we're all burned."

"Considering most of us are now dead, I assumed this was a set up." Again, Nazir looked at Tashen-Lei. "One of our own betrayed us."

"It's not him, Brother." Veezara didn't move from holding Tashen-Lei up in a standing position. But he tensed, scales shifting, head tilted just so. "He saved me, and he saved Babette."

Nazir rolled his eyes and lead the group further in. "I didn't think it was him." A beat. "Well, maybe I did, but considering he did help me, and help you both, any doubts I might have had are erased." Nazir pushed open the iron door leading to the Night Mother's room. "Besides, someone like him? He wouldn't break his bones for anyone if he was planning on stabbing them in the back later."

 _I don't look that bad_ , Tashen-Lei wanted to say. All he did was cough and groan.

The Night Mother's room was a dead end.

"Damn it!" Nazir coughed as he spoke. The smoke slowly claiming him as well. "There's got to be a way out of here."

"Will you be alright if I leave you be?" Tashen-Lei nodded at Veezara and the argonian carefully propped him on a broken table near the Night Mother's coffin. Veezara and Nazir began to heave rocks out of the way. Behind them, the fire edged closer and closer. Babette coughed violently into her fist, her body trembling from the heat.

Tashen-Lei looked at the Night Mother's coffin, and listened. Waited.

Her voice came in an deadly rasp. Thick vines decorated with spikes that curled around the air and wrapped around Tashen-Lei's mind. _Listener._ She beckoned him closer, and he stood, walking closer to her coffin. The doors swung open of their own accord, and the Night Mother's visage called him closer. _I am your only salvation. Come. Embrace me. Sleep._

It took an eternity for Tashen-Lei to get close to her with his injuries, but he did. He pressed against her corpse, the clammy feeling of her skin drowned his consciousness with sleep. He closed his eyes, and the Night Mother's coffin slammed shut. Then, the deafening sound of breaking glass assaulted his ears and he drifted off in a fitful sleep.

Tashen-Lei could not move when he awoke. His head drummed a beat he didn't recognize, and his lungs struggled to take in any air. Shattered bones shifted beneath his flesh when he tried to take a step.

"Hurry, Nazir!" He heard Babette call. "I'm telling you, he's in there."

"Veezara and I... are going as... fast as we can, you stupid she-devil," said Nazir. Above him, he heard something turn, rocks being moved out of place. "I don't see you... helping."

"I'm not exactly built for manual labour. Now come on, you've almost got it."

"Ready Brother?" Veezara asked. "On the count of three. One, two, three!"

More rocks shifted, tumbling away from Tashen-Lei's iron prison. The voices became clearer.

"One more... pull... yeah!! There." Nazir hollered in triumph as the final stone was hauled away. The voices were now directly behind Tashen-Lei.

"Can you get it open?" Babette spoke clearer, despite sounding farther away than Nazir and Veezara. If she was no longer coughing, then the fire must have been put out.

Could it be a miracle from the Night Mother?

"We can get it open. Ready Veezara?"

"Ready."

"On three, then."

After another count, light pierced the inside of the coffin as Veezara and Nazir pried the Night Mother's coffin open. Tashen-Lei didn't have the energy to stand and simply fell backwards into Veezara's waiting arms. Nazir and Babette were upon him in an instant, looking over his injuries.

"By Sithis!" Nazir frowned at the numerous tears his armor endured. A huge chunk of it had been torn off at the side where the mace collided with his ribs. "You look even worse than I thought."

"I'm fine." Tashen-Lei spoke. Whispered. He meant his voice to be loud enough for everyone to hear, but what came out was nothing more than a choked sound. Veezara had to lean down to hear him. "Can't speak."

"He would like to say that he's fine, but that he can't speak."

"What happened to him?" Asked Babette. "If I know, I might be able to make a potion to help him."

Veezara sadly shook his head. "The smoke ravaged his gills and lungs. He can breathe, but his throat had been dried out too long. Only time would tell if his voice would recover." The sad droop of Veezara's head suggested that Tashen-Lei might not recover as they might hope. It was a depressing thought.

Although beaten, broken, and bloody, Tashen-Lei sat up upon hearing the Night Mother's voice again, just before the doors to her coffin close. _You must speak with Astrid. Here, in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary._

Tashen-Lei repeated the order to Veezara.

"Astrid's alive." Both Babette and Nazir's eyes widened at the news. "And she's here in the Sanctuary."

"She's here?" Nazir exclaimed incredulously. "By Sithis I thought we lost her. Let's go!"

It was a slow walk. With his broken bones, bleeding cuts, and shallow breathing, Tashen-Lei could do no more than rely on Veezara and Nazir to guide him through the remains of their home.

They passed by the training grounds. Veezara spent most of his time here, striking the training dummies with his sword in a furious dance. Arnbjorn used to hammer away near the workbenches, smithing a new axe or hammer. Now, the training grounds were silent apart from the barely audible footsteps of four assassins, slowly marching in procession.

Tashen-Lei didn't fully understand the scope of their loss until after seeing Astrid. She had always been the leader. A port amidst a storm. A torch against the night. Family. Hearing her, listening to how she betrayed them, how she chose to sacrifice Tashen-Lei, hurt.

Killing her hurt even more.

The Blade of Woe felt alive in his hands. Blood gleamed along its edge. Tashen-Lei sheathed it as soon as Astrid breathed her last. He couldn't bear to look at it. They went back to the training grounds, sombre as graves. Tashen-Lei took to healing the worst of their wounds again. Veezara refused to accept any healing until after Tashen-Lei fixed his own ribs. Nazir, thankfully, only suffered minor wounds.

All four of them gathered before the Night Mother's coffin. Veezara sat beside Tashen-Lei, leaning against the coffin's doors should the Night Mother speak. Nazir sat further away, tending to his scimitar. Babette paced restlessly. Tashen-Lei's consciousness ebbed to and fro, only fully waking when the Night Mother spoke her stilted words. He drifted off at the long bouts of silence and, after every complete sentence, Tashen-Lei passed it on to Veezara, who spoke aloud what Tashen-Lei could only whisper.

"We need to meet with Amaund Motierre at the Bannered Hare. Mare. Bannered Mare. My apologies. The Listener says that the contract is still on."

"First things first, before you finish the contract, we need a place to regroup." Nazir stood up. "We can't keep using this place. Those dead agents won't report back and once Commander Maro notices they're missing, he'll send another regiment in to finish the job. And I doubt we'll last through another attack."

They won't. Babette won't have enough alchemical ingredients to brew healing potions for them all, and Tashen-Lei's healing spells were pathetic at best. They need refuge. A place to stay.

And they all turned to him.

Astrid should have left someone else in charge. Being this, the Listener, the leader of this Sanctuary. It was terrifying.

But he needed to protect them.

Veezara watched him carefully, looking for words his mouth didn't speak. Tashen-Lei's tail twitched, his shoulders hunching up.

"There's a place nearby in Falkreath." Babette and Nazir perked up at that, crowding closer to hear Veezara. "We need to come at night and disguise ourselves, but we'll be safe.

Astrid watched him. Tashen-Lei could almost feel her eyes boring into his back. Arnbjorn watched him too. And Gabriella. And Festus. Tashen-Lei couldn't save them all. Festus had died alone. Gabriella butchered. He couldn't protect Arnbjorn.

But Babette imperiously listed off the ingredients she'd need for more healing potions. Nazir caviled and complained at having to lug the Night Mother's coffin across the wilderness. Veezara was his voice, a speaker to the words he had no power to say. Tashen-Lei didn't save everyone, but he saved Babette. He saved Nazir. He saved Veezara.

They will hide in the shadows, and they will plan their next move.

The Brotherhood will endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can pry my love for argonians from my cold dead fingers


	4. Quirks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, this isn't a convoluted BNHA AU. This is just all the little things that separates every dragonborn from each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this universe, Veezara lived

**Dar'vassa**

There's a running joke in Jorrvaskr. "Ysgramor himself could tapdance in front of Dar'vassa and he wouldn't even flinch." Nothing could make his face so much as twitch. It was always impassive, a stone wall that doesn't crack for anything. Or anyone. When the Companions mourned Skjor and Kodlak, Dar'vassa remained frigid. When Sissel first hugged him as a daughter, Dar'vassa didn't smile. Even at his own damn wedding, Dar'vassa's face betrayed no emotion.

But, as Derkeethus would say with a never-ending amount of amusement, Dar'vassa reacts to every little thing.

It's just that no one knows what to look for.

On the event that Farkas does something indelibly stupid that it became funny, Dar'vassa's tail would twist in on itself in laughter. His children could throw a simple "I'm glad you're back pa!" and Dar'vassa would melt and his tail would dance. At dinner, Dar'vassa would twine his tail along Derkeethus' leg and silently eat a fresh bowl of Elsweyr fondue.

Derkeethus would have said to watch how Dar'vassa's ears twitch at every little sound, but the hood Dar'vassa wears hides it from view.

Once, when Ri'Saad detoured to visit Dar'vassa in Falkreath, he laughed at how emotional Dar'vassa was.

Dar'vassa's retort was that, "Sissel conjured a familiar and Blaise shot a perfect bullseye. How can you _not_ be excited?"

It didn't matter than Abanvari didn't seem to be capable of smiling. His tail twitched happily every time he came home, and that was more than enough.

* * *

**Arinya**

Regrettably, her expertise in alchemy garnered the attention of many.

Letters from the College in Winterhold, expressing request after request for her to come and share some of her knowledge. "Valdimar, write a letter. Have them come here if they want to learn alchemy so damn bad."

Letters from apothecaries all over Skyrim placing orders for several of her potions and poisons. "Valdimar, arrange a shipment for these healing potions to reach Whiterun as soon as possible. Fuck the gold, there was a dragon attack."

Letters from shipping companies negotiating the prices of her latest batch of ingredients. "Valdimar, kindly inform the Captain that if he charges me this much for blisterwort, I will leave the house to personally laugh at his injuries when he gets mauled by a bear."

Letters from Arinya's own wife, living in the same house as she. "Valdimar, please ensure that my wife doesn't bother me for the next few days. I need to focus on my new formula."

Letters from the Summerset Isles, from a mother who demanded her back, and an ex-fiance who chased after her family fortune. "Valdimar, kindly find the most expensive piece of parchment and write two words on it. Fuck. Off."

Letters from idiot admirers who heard her name, heard the rumours about her wealth, and built palaces out of empty paragraphs. "Valdimar, please inform all of them that I am, in fact, married. If they have wives and husbands, kindly expose the love letters sent to me."

Letters from mercenaries looking to enchant their arms and armour. "Valdimar, write them to come here in person for the enchantments, or to ship their items by courier."

Letters from both Stormcloak and Legion alike, begging her to pick a side in a war that she had no part of. "Valdimar, tell them both that I will supply both fronts of the war, but that I refuse to side with one moron over the other."

Between her alchemical experiments, enchantments, and the cultivation of her ingredients, Arinya looked at her letters once every few weeks. Skyrim could be split in half, but she won't be torn from her passions. Valdimar, patiently, read her the letters with careful attention as she remained buried in her research.

The only letters she immediately paid attention to, were from a merchant company shipping her boxes and crates full of a specific kind of ingredient. These letters she read herself, and resolved the day they arrived on her doorstep. "Valdimar, ask for another shipment of Jazbay Grapes. Avrusa's last batch is almost out."

"Yes, I need those grapes as soon as possible. She can't grow her nirnroot without them. Pay the company double if you have to."

* * *

**Ashariel**

When she was caught near the border, she was already wearing the mask. Beautifully lacquered wood carved into the grinning facsimile of a fox. The mask stretched backwards, covering most of her head (including her ears) and curled around her neck. The wood clung to her throat like a collar, and no matter how much the patrol guards tried, they could not pry the mask off.

The mask remained on after she escaped. Irileth nearly decapitated her with one swing when she approached Jarl Barlgruuf under the assumption that Ashariel was an assassin. The sword got caught in the wood. Echantments thrummed along the mask, much like a stoneflesh spell that protected it from the elements and the fighting. Ashariel herself put it in place, and the mask bent to no magic but her own.

Even Shouting did not launch the mask from her. It simply passed through the mask, as though the wood was water. The mere force of the Thu'um ravaged her throat and made it dry as the deserts in Elsweyr. But when she Shouted with the mask? It felt as though she swam upriver with both her arms and legs tied.

She ate and drank alone. Her companion, Vorstag, always stands adamant outside her door to keep anyone from seeing her face. Even he, a loyal friend, has never seen her true face.

Once, someone asked what she looked like. With a shrug, he had said, "Like she can kill you fifty different ways if she wanted to. What does it matter?"

Ashariel offered to double his pay for that. He refused. She took him exploring inside Dwemer ruins instead.

Vorstag once saw her rumoured lover. He promptly elected to forget his face and name, so no one would ask him.

Ashariel sent him a skyforge steel sword, the blade sharpened to a deadly point and enchanted with powerful fire spells.

At her wedding, he was the only other person in the temple aside from the priest.

* * *

**Erels Jylin**

 

As much as he loved Samuel, his son, the joy of his life and the sun in the sky, Erels couldn't help but get furious every time Samuel tried to open the chest underneath Erels' bed. One time, he became so angry, he shouted at Samuel. That, of course, was an action he deeply regretted.

Erels was a quiet man. He never shouted, and Samuel looked like the world had ended.

But even so, the locked chest remained unopened and hidden under the bed. Erels added several more locked to it, and had each and every lock enchanted. The chest, too, had been changed from a wooden box to one of stone.

A lovingly worn set of shrouded armor sits inside, untouched, since his retirement from the Dark Brotherhood.

* * *

**Elsinthar Camaen**

"Have you seen the new Archmage?"

"Yes, yes, another elf."

"He seems...off."

"All elves are like that."

"No. I meant that he puts his magic above the lives of others. A man could be dying and he wouldn't leave his experiments."

"All mages are like that. We're all dedicated to our crafts."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Ssh. He's coming."

"Yes, Archmage, I'm sorry for being so loud. It won't happen again."

"..."

"I do have knowledge of plants. Jarrin Root is only found on Stros M'kai. Incredibly rare. Don't know what it does though."

"..."

"..."

"That was terrifying."

"Yes. I understand why he was so busy doing his research though."

"Yeah. Apparently it's a healing potion to cure nausea."

"Nausea? The Archmage doesn't dabble with healing potions."

"It's for his ex-lover, apparently. She's with child and he wanted to send her something to help ease the pain."

"I'm guessing Jarrin Root has intensive healing properties."

"Maybe. There's some in store right now, shipped just yesterday. You want to try making that healing potion?"

"Let's do it. Might help me with this headache I'm having too."

 

"Archmage Camaen?"

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to notify you that your potion has been sent to the courier."

"Ah, what pleasant news for a change. Thank you kindly."

"And one more thing, Archmage."

"Something else?"

"Two of our newest recruits...they have been found dead in the alchemical laboratory."

"What's the cause of death."

"Poisoning. They somehow found your supply of Jarrin Root. I don't know how they even knew the roots existed. Both of them tried to mix it with blisterwort and wheat at an attempt of making a healing potion."

"How tragic. Please notify their families of their deaths, and make an announcement to the rest of the college not to tamper with the Jarrin Root again. In fact, have the Jarrin Root sent out. I don't want a single sample here anymore. Our students might conduct tests on it. Or handle it improperly.

"Jarrin Root is, in fact, highly poisonous."

* * *

**Lehasi Turavel**

In Riften, the city with thieves and liars, Honeyside stands as an illustrious beacon of normalcy. The garden regularly weeded and kept. The floors swept to a polished shine, the beds made, the house painstakingly well-kept. For a city of thieves, Honeyside was the pristine pearl that called for envy. And scrutiny.

Lehasi was a dunmer with a dunmer husband. Revyn ran a store while Lehasi disappeared for weeks on end, returning with bright eyes and brighter teeth. The Thane of Riften, owner of Honeyside, skillful mage, loving wife and mother, gathered many a thoughtful gaze.

For it was she who insisted on maintaining Honeyside the way it is. Meticulously clean. Lehasi herself was always polite, with a half-smile on her face and a pleasant disposition. Charitable enough to make Bolli's wife gloss over his donations to the church and to the people of Riften. Once a month, Lehasi donates 10,000 gold to the whole of Riften and happily partakes in celebrations, weddings, and other such forms of merriment.

Revyn doesn't complain of her charity. Iona doesn't either. Nor does her son, Francois. In fact, the whole household was just cheerful smiles and laughter.

Riften doesn't notice how her teeth glistens. Riften doesn't notice the telltale signs of an illusion spell curling at her fingertips. Riften doesn't notice how Maven herself gives Lehasi and her family more freeway.

Riften doesn't notice when Lehasi took over the city with honey words and sugar smiles.

* * *

**Lyse**

Anything not nailed down is fair game. Jarl Balgruuf often wonders where, exactly, had all his plates and bowls disappeared to. A worthless book suddenly disappears from Farengar's library. Everyone everywhere wonders why things keep disappearing. Breezehome is subject to its owner's kleptomanic tendencies. Most of the money that Lyse sends to Lydia for expenses are spent replacing the damn plates Lyse herself keeps _stealing from her own home_.

Her wife, Jenassa, noticed and made a game out of it. Both of them steal from each other to hone their skills and keep their wits sharp. It's a special kind of romance, one that sends Lyse into a giggling blushing mess. She's an adult, but what can she do when she finds a lovely gem Jenassa placed in her pockets without ever noticing?

Riften was another matter. When anyone gets word that Lyse, their darling guild master, was returning, they all scramble. Valuables were hidden, locks were locked, and everything anyone didn't want to lose were catalogued and protected.

It's not because of malice. More often than not, Lyse gladly returned anything she stole with an apology and a friendly challenge to "watch your pockets next time, dear." Lyse steals because she can, grabbing everything from everywhere. It's a fun past time for her, much like how a child would play with a doll. Lyse just plays with other people's coin. And their jewels. And their rings. And the very weapons held in their hands.

* * *

**Rashanna Gavun**

Maybe it was because she didn't have much in Hammerfell. Or maybe it was simply due to oversight. Whatever the reason is, Rashanna is absolutely horrid with money. Not that she couldn't earn any. Her skills as a warrior and position as Legate ensured a constant supply of coin. It's just that Rashanna is truly terrible at _keeping_ all the coin she's earned.

For all her tactical knowledge and incomparable opportunist mind, Rashanna throws money to the wind like a flower girl at a wedding. One moment, she received a large payment for protecting a merchant caravan and the next, she gilded Proudspire Manor in paintings and lavish statues. Her children get the worst of it. After so much as an insinuation, a "I think it would be cool to have that" thrown in casual conversation, Rashanna provides it.

The children are absolutely spoilt.

Or, they would be if Marcurio wasn't such an excellent father. What their mother lacks in tact and parenting skills that weren't 'give everything at the drop of a hat', Marcurio makes up for with uncharacteristic patience and saint-like virtues. "Kids, I know your mom is a good woman. You should try to be as kind or dedicated as she is. Or train to be a good warrior like her. But, for the love of the divines, don't copy her spending habits. Don't. Just don't. You can mimic anything your mother does, but not how she carelessly spends her coin."

He argues with Rashanna. Or tries to.

Truly, for a competent soldier and excellent Legate, Rashanna can't keep her focus. Her mind is everywhere and nowhere at once.

* * *

**Sifgir Iron-Gale**

He's a Nord. As much of a Nord as a Nord could get. Good warrior, strict father, worships Talos devoutly and resolutely. Quite arguably, the only Nord more stereotypical than he, was Ulfric Stormcloak.

Though not a formal member of the Companions, he's not opposed to leaving Windhelm and his family to go on long jobs with them. A hunt, perhaps.

* * *

**Tashen-Lei**

 

When he cornered Cicero in the Dawnstar Sanctuary, Cicero had said, "Of course, of course! The Listener listens!" It was the madness of a dying fool, but no less true.

Most of the Sanctuary thought Tashen-Lei mute when he joined. Even Astrid, who had not heard his voice when she whisked him away to the abandoned shack. Silence was a prerequisite for any assassin but Tashen-Lei breathed silence. Everything about him was eerily quiet, the shadows themselves wrapping their arms around him when he did something as simple as walk.

The Brotherhood could count the number of times Tashen-Lei broke that silence with their fingers.

Once, when he met Veezara and asked to hear more of the Shadowscales from their shared history. "I want to learn about our history. Can you indulge me?"

Twice, when Astrid requested his name so she could stop calling him 'Brother' all the time. "Tashen-Lei."

Thrice, when Festus demanded an explanation for Tashen-Lei's neglect at sharing his name with the rest of them. The response was, "No one asked." Astrid repeated his name again until all of them knew. Veezara was the only one who didn't butcher the pronunciation.

The fourth time was when Cicero arrived at the Sanctuary. In his excitement to greet Tashen-Lei who, prior to their meeting had helped fix Cicero's wagon wheel, the fool fucking stepped on Tashen-Lei's tail. "Fuck! Watch your feet, Fool."

Fifth, when he approached Astrid for a favour. "The child who had called to the Dark Brotherhood. Aventus Aretino. Can you make sure that nothing bad happens to him? Windhelm and Riften knows that he wanted Grelod dead. I don't want him to get hurt because of their prejudice."

Sixth, when the Sanctuary was attacked. Though no one really bothered to count just how many sentences were said. "I'll gut your fucking commander like I gutted his pathetic son." "Veezara!" "I'm fine. Can't speak."

Seventh, when Tashen-Lei grabbed Nazir's arms so tightly the man bled. "Water." He begged. "Water."

Eighth, when Tashen-Lei brought Aventus Aretino back to the Sanctuary. His belt was full of the potions Babette made for him to keep his lungs and gills from drying out. If they dried out again, Tashen-Lei would die from asphyxiation, as he won't be able to breathe anymore. Speaking was next to impossible, but the proud tilt of his head and fire in his eyes said more than the one word he managed to choke. "Son." He'd announced, a hand protectively on Aventus' shoulder.

Ninth, when Tashen-Lei gathered the Brotherhood, what remained of it, around him. He patted Veezara's back and said, "Speaker." It was the last time anyone had ever heard his voice.

The Brotherhood waited on the tenth time they'd hear him. It never happened.

* * *

**Telvhal**

He worshipped the Daedric Princes. All of them. Their artifacts hum in Telvhal's basement. He maintains them all carefully and lovingly. Anyone who enters his basement doesn't make it back out.


End file.
